Reconciliation
by CaroH
Summary: Porthos is keeping secrets which damages his relationship with Aramis. Is it beyond salvation? A sequel to The Court of Miracles.
1. Chapter 1

This is a sequel to The Court of Miracles and you will need to read that story for this one to make sense. It is set in Season Two. My thanks to The Victoriana for giving me the idea for this story and for acting as my beta.

Reconciliation

Chapter One

Porthos moved quickly from shadow to shadow. Periodically he stopped to look behind him. His guilt warred with the knowledge that he was doing a good thing. However, it wasn't something his brother would understand. It would seem like a betrayal after everything that had gone before. It wasn't even intentional, at least it hadn't been until he realised how much of a difference he could make. He hated keeping secrets but this was something he had to do by himself. It wouldn't be fair to ask his brothers to aid him.

He pulled the hood of his cloak further forward to hide his face. There were too many of the Rochefort's guards around for him to risk being recognised. He wasn't even wearing his pauldron, although removing it had been more difficult than expected. He had left his uniform in his room, opting instead for a plain leather doublet. He still had all his weapons though. Where he was going you didn't walk unarmed. He quickened his pace, eager to reach his destination.

TMTMTM

It was dark by the time Aramis reached the tavern where he was to meet his friends. He had been on guard duty at the Palace and the King's audience had gone on longer than usual. Not that he minded. It had allowed him to be in the presence of the Queen with whom he remained infatuated. He was glad Athos hadn't been there. Sometimes he thought his friend saw too much and he didn't relish being on the receiving end of one of Athos' disapproving stares.

He entered the building glad to be out of the chill of the night air. A wave of heat hit him in the face, along with the unappealing smell of a multitude of people and a wall of sound from myriad voices. He smiled automatically at one of the serving girls who was passing with a tray laden with empty cups. Her harried expression softened in response. He watched the sway of her hips with an appreciative eye before turning his attention back to the crowd in front of him.

It took a while for him to spot Athos and d'Artagnan sitting at a table towards the rear of the establishment. He wove his way between the tables, narrowly missing a collision with a large man who was clearly the worse for drink. When he reached his friends he found they had already made substantial inroads into their first bottle of wine.

D'Artagnan grinned at him and filled an empty glass. "We were starting to think you'd got lost."

"Court was busy today. Lots of nobles petitioning the King against the recent increase in taxes."

"That's all Rochefort's doing," Athos said. "There are rumours that the Treasury is almost bankrupt. I fear things will get worse before they improve."

"I don't understand how the King can keep raising the taxes. Doesn't he realise how much hardship he is causing the people?" d'Artagnan asked.

Aramis looked at him sympathetically. D'Artagnan and his father had been journeying to Paris to raise this very issue with the King when his father had been murdered. "Running a country is an expensive business."

"If he continues to squeeze every sou out of farmers and merchants he'll drive everyone to the poor house," d'Artagnan said bitterly.

"That's true." Athos drained his glass. "However, he is insulated from the people. He relies on Rochefort and his Council and doesn't see the damage he is causing. It is a common failing in monarchs."

Aramis sipped his wine and lounged back in his chair. He was tired from standing too attention for hours and it was a luxury to be able to sit down. "Where's Porthos?"

"He said he had another engagement." Athos refilled his glass before waving the empty wine bottle in the direction of the serving girl Aramis had noticed earlier.

"That's the third time in the last two weeks," Aramis said frowning.

"Maybe he has a new lady friend," d'Artagnan suggested.

"He'd have told me," Aramis said. "Do you think he has been acting a little strangely lately?"

"We're not his keepers." Athos nodded his thanks when another bottle of wine was deposited on the table. "He doesn't owe us any explanation for his absence."

"It isn't like Porthos to sneak around."

"He's not sneaking around, Aramis. He just isn't here. He's entitled to keep secrets from us if he so chooses."

Aramis shook his head, unconvinced. "It's out of character."

"You worry too much, my friend. Whatever is going on I'm sure he will tell us eventually."

"Besides, you don't tell us about all your latest conquests," d'Artagnan pointed out.

"Perhaps you're right," he conceded. However, his curiosity was rapidly getting the better of him and he resolved to tackle Porthos on the subject the next day.

TMTMTM

Porthos was late for breakfast. He arrived to find his friends already gathered around the table.

"We thought we were going to have to make excuses for you to Treville," Aramis said.

"Yeah. Sorry. I overslept."

"That's not like you, my friend. Did you have a busy night?"

Porthos tensed at Aramis' question. He poured a mug of ale and avoided the marksman's piercing stare. "Not particularly."

"D'Artagnan thinks you have a new lady friend," Aramis persisted. "Or perhaps you are seeing the lovely Alice again."

"What I do in my own time is my business."

There was a momentary stunned silence. He cursed his guilt-fueled vehemence but the damage was done.

"Leave him alone, Aramis. He doesn't have to tell us if he doesn't want to." Athos speared a slice of cold sausage, completely unperturbed by Porthos' outburst.

"I apologise if I have caused offence," Aramis said, with hurt in his tone.

"I had some business to attend to. That's all."

Athos looked from one to the other. "We are on duty at the Palace today. The King continues to hear petitions against his new taxes. Treville is worried that there might be trouble."

"So there should be," Porthos said unexpectedly.

"It's not his wisest move certainly." Athos pushed his plate away and wiped the crumbs from his doublet.

"He sits there in luxury while the people starve," Porthos continued, aware that he was treading on dangerous ground.

"I didn't know you were so interested in politics," d'Artagnan said, looking at him quizzically.

"I'm interested in seein' the ordinary folk treated fairly."

"That's an interesting notion." Aramis looked at him challengingly. "However, we all know that isn't the way the world works."

"Then it's time things changed."

"You advocate revolution?" Athos asked with a frown.

Porthos took a deep breath. "It might come to it one day."

"It ill becomes a Musketeer to talk treason," Athos said with a clear warning in his tone.

"And I suppose it's right for the King to take the bread out of children's mouths?"

"Perhaps you should stay at the garrison today," Athos said.

"I can still do my duty," Porthos growled. He stood up, almost quivering with anger. "I'll see you in the stables."

Aramis watched his friend stride away. "Something is bothering him."

"We shouldn't forget that he grew up in poverty in the Court of Miracles," Athos said. "Perhaps we shouldn't be surprised that he is taking this hard."

"He gave his oath to the King," d'Artagnan said. "Whether we approve or not we have to protect Louis."

"Porthos understands that." Athos retrieved his hat from the table.

"He has never let his upbringing impact on his duty as a soldier," Aramis said. "There is something more going on here."

Athos put his hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezed gently. "If you want my advice leave him alone. He clearly doesn't want to confide in us."

Aramis nodded distractedly even though he had no intention of following Athos' advice. Something was eating away at his best friend and he was going to find out what it was.

Tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Reconciliation**

 **Chapter Two**

For four days life returned to normal and Aramis began to forget his suspicions that something was wrong with Porthos. They had just finished an afternoon training the newest recruits to the regiment. Athos was watching d'Artagnan teach a class in sword craft when Aramis joined him.

"His skills are growing," Aramis observed.

"He has a natural ability. Treville believes mentoring the recruits will help to hone his skills further."

Aramis observed for a while, critically appraising their newest brethren. "Raw but promising," he said. "Their shooting, on the other hand, is going to take a lot of work."

"As is their hand to hand combat," Athos said drily, indicating the sorry bunch who'd had the misfortune of training with Porthos. Not one of them had escaped unscathed.

"It is perhaps unfair to expect them to fight our friend. We can't even best him and we have been training against him for years."

"A soldier has to be able to take a punch as well as deliver one. It is as important to be able to get up and continue to fight as it is to knock your opponent to the floor."

"True and it looks like they have been getting a lot of experience in that." Aramis smiled sympathetically as a particularly morose young man hobbled past him.

"Well I believe we are done for the day. What say you to dinner at the Wren?"

"It will certainly make a change from Serge's cooking." Aramis beckoned to d'Artagnan. "Enough for today. You can humiliate them again tomorrow."

D'Artagnan caught the towel that Athos threw at him and wiped the back of his neck. It had been a hot afternoon and he had worked the recruits hard. "They are improving," he said as he joined his friends. "Soon they will be able to hold their own against the Red Guards."

"That's not much of an achievement," Aramis said.

D'Artagnan shrugged. "They have to start somewhere."

Porthos deposited the final recruit on his back before wandering over, grinning broadly. "That wasn't much of a challenge."

"No-one is much of challenge for you," Athos said. "Even when it's two on one you usually manage to win."

"Well now that our duties are over for the day Athos has suggested that we retire to the Wren."

Porthos' gaze skittered away. "You go. I've got things to do."

Aramis frowned. "Your mysterious nocturnal wanderings again. I thought we were past that."

"You'd understand if you knew," Porthos said defensively.

"Then tell us," Aramis begged.

"I can't so stop askin'."

Athos gripped Aramis' sleeve and shook his head in warning.

"Very well, my friend. We will see you in the morning," Aramis said.

Porthos looked relieved as he took his leave and walked out of the garrison. Aramis barely waited for him to reach the street before turning to Athos and d'Artagnan.

"Something is wrong. I'm going to follow him."

"Whatever he is doing it is clear he doesn't want us involved," Athos said.

"Which is precisely why I'm worried. I will join you at the Wren later."

Aramis stayed well back from Porthos who was acting in a highly suspicious manner. More than once he thought his friend had seen him only to relax when Porthos continued on his way. They progressed from the main thoroughfare to an intricate maze of alleys by which time Aramis had a bad feeling about where they were going. The area around the Court of Miracles was still patrolled by the red guards but Porthos evaded them easily. Aramis came to a halt at the entrance to an alley and watched as his best friend disappeared into the Court.

Now he understood why Porthos had been so secretive. Aramis' last experience of the Court had been as a beaten prisoner, held to ransom at the whim of Porthos' old friend, Flea. His memories were of nothing other than cruelty and pain. Following his rescue Porthos had disassociated himself from Flea, claiming that he no longer had any feelings for the denizens of the Court. Aramis had believed him and now that was shown to be a lie. He felt a surge of anger so strong that he began to shake. In all the years he had known Porthos he had never expected betrayal. He knew that Porthos had once been romantically involved with Flea and wondered if he had rekindled that relationship. The thought of his best friend lying with the woman who had ordered his abduction made him feel physically sick. Well, he would have the truth now. He rested his shoulder against the wall and waited.

TMTMTM

Porthos was well known within the streets comprising the Court of Miracles. His presence was treated with wariness instead of the outright hostility that had greeted him on his first visit back to the scene of his childhood after Aramis' rescue. Flea had sent for him, much to his surprise. On that occasion he had demanded an explanation from her for Aramis' abduction. Her response had surprised him. She claimed that she had never expected him and his friends to steal the tax money. What she had wanted was to gain his attention in the hope that the Musketeers could help find a way to alleviate the dire conditions in the Court. That had all come to naught when her men, contrary to her orders, had beaten Aramis so badly that he had nearly died. When Porthos and the others arrived to rescue their stricken comrade they had been in no mood to offer assistance, despite the fact that people were ill due to poison in the food.

When he answered her summons out of curiosity and a need to confront her about Aramis' treatment she had taken his hand and led him through the streets. Rochefort's blockade was doing its deadly work. It was the children and the old who were suffering the most. It had opened his eyes and his heart and he found himself asking what he could do to help. Thanks to his experience as a soldier he was now a good strategist and he had come up with ways to avoid the blockade so that food could be brought in. It troubled his conscience knowing that the food was stolen but times were desperate. Now he came to help distribute the food.

As he walked he thought about his friends. Athos and d'Artagnan had a distaste for the Court after what had happened with Aramis. Aramis himself had been deeply traumatised by his ordeal and Porthos would never want to put his friend in the position of having to relive those days. No, it was better to keep his visits a secret.

He arrived at the building where Flea held court. He walked past the guards and into the large room where he found Flea sitting on the dusty ground surrounded by children. All were listening to her with rapt attention as she described how to pick a pocket. He drew back into the shadows to watch her. The wariness that marred her features was utterly absent and her face was lit with a rare smile as she looked fondly at the youngsters. When she sent them off she ruffled the hair of many of them and offered hugs to the youngest ones.

Porthos chuckled. "You'd make a good mother," he said, walking into the light.

"How long were you watching?" she asked, standing and brushing dust from her skirts.

"Long enough to know you love them all. Why let yourself get so attached?"

She walked over to him, her hips swaying gently. "Do you remember what it was like growing up without parents?"

The smile left Porthos' face. "Not somethin' you forget."

"Then you have your answer. Most of them are either orphans or have parents who are sick or addicted to drugs. Add to that the ever present hunger and they need to know that someone cares about them."

"You were a feisty little one," Porthos said with fond remembrance. "You were always taggin' along after Charon and me. It didn't matter what we did, we could never shake you."

"We three were good together." She moved closer. "Why did you leave?"

"Why did you stay?"

"This is my home. These are my people. They needed someone to look after them. I knew Charon would make a good King but he never really cared as much as I did."

"Is that why you got together with him?"

"A girl needs a protector," she said coyly.

Porthos laughed. "You can look after yourself as well as any man."

"It could have been you. We had good times, didn't we?"

For many years Porthos had thought of Flea as his little sister. Then, when she turned sixteen he had begun to see her in a new light. He'd lost his virtue long before but with her he'd felt more than a sense of physical release. Looking back now he could see Charon's growing jealousy but at the time he'd only known that something special had happened. She'd given her virginity willingly and they had delighted in each other's company. Gradually though Porthos had found that it wasn't enough to stifle his growing desire to leave the Court. He had begged her to accompany him and would never forget the look of betrayal on her face the day he packed his meagre belongings and left the streets he'd called home for eighteen years.

"Yes, we did."

"Why wasn't it enough for you?"

"I just felt there had to be more to life than stealin'. For months I thought you'd change your mind and come to find me."

"I thought about it," Flea admitted. "But, I don't belong on the outside."

"You could belong anywhere." He put a finger gently under her chin and tipped her head up so that they were gazing into each other's eyes. "I won't ask you to leave again but know that you will always be welcome." He brushed a gentle kiss on her lips before stepping back. "I'd better get on with what I came to do. Aramis is gettin' real suspicious so I can't stay long."

"You should tell him."

"He wouldn't understand."

For the next couple of hours Porthos collected food from the central store and delivered it to those folks who were too unwell to get it for themselves. Everywhere he went he was greeted with expressions of gratitude which helped him push aside the guilt he felt at deceiving his friends. He was in a good mood when he finally left, smiling to himself as he crossed the invisible boundary that separated the Court from the rest of Paris. He looked to right and left before crossing the road and was halfway across when he saw a figure emerge from an alley opposite him. A string of colourful curses raced through his mind when he saw who it was. Aramis' face was a mask of betrayal. He watched Porthos for a moment before turning and walking away.

Tbc


	3. Chapter 3

I have changed the timeline for this story. It was set in season one but I have moved it to season two. Thanks to The Victoriana for the idea and the beta.

 **Reconciliation**

 **Chapter Three**

Porthos looked happy. That was Aramis' first thought when he saw his friend leaving the Court of Miracles. It felt like a knife to the gut. That happiness disappeared the minute Porthos noticed him. He found that he didn't want to listen to an explanation and turned away quickly. He half expected Porthos to come after him and ducked into a bisecting alleyway, quickening his steps.

It was difficult to think beyond a deep sense of betrayal. He had almost died in the Court. He'd been beaten and kept tethered like an animal. He could still feel the phantom shadow of the knife that had been held to his throat when he was used as leverage to blackmail his friends. He felt a twinge in his knee, another reminder of his ordeal. The injury to his knee had been so severe that it had been weeks before he could be confident that it would heal enough to allow him to remain a Musketeer. Knowing all this, how could Porthos return there?

He turned another corner, barely noticing his surroundings and without any destination in mind. His simmering anger was mingled with a deep sense of disappointment. He and Porthos had been friends a long time. Although they were close they didn't share every aspect of their lives with each other. However, they were honest about the things that mattered. For Porthos to lie to him was as upsetting as the fact that he was visiting the Court.

He knew only a little about Porthos' early life. He knew his mother had died when Porthos was very young, leaving him to live alone on the streets. Having grown up in a large and loving family he could not conceive of the trauma that must have evoked. He could imagine some of the things his friend would have had to do to survive although Porthos rarely spoke of it. How he had grown into the kind-hearted man he was today was a mystery to Aramis. Porthos was also fiercely loyal to his friends which was why this was so hard to understand.

His aimless wandering eventually brought him to the door of The Wren where he hesitated. Then, deciding that he needed a drink, he walked inside. Athos and d'Artagnan were still there, sharing a bottle of wine. Aramis walked over to join them, collecting a glass from the bar on his way.

"You don't look very happy," Athos observed.

Aramis grabbed the bottle and filled his glass before drinking deeply.

"Did you satisfy your curiosity?" d'Artagnan asked.

Aramis stared at the scarred tabletop. "He went to the Court of Miracles."

"Ah," Athos said.

"You knew?" Aramis wasn't sure how much more betrayal from his friends he could take.

"I suspected."

"What was he doing there?" d'Artagnan asked.

"I have no idea."

"You haven't spoken to him?" d'Artagnan looked shocked.

"No."

"At least do him the courtesy of letting him explain," Athos said. "He must have a good reason."

"You are defending him?"

"He is my friend. I might not approve of him visiting the Court but he did live there for many years and he has friends there."

"Friends who were instrumental in abducting me," Aramis said heatedly.

"We have not forgotten what they did," Athos said.

"It appears he has."

"Well, you'll get your chance to ask him," d'Artagnan said, gesturing towards the door.

Aramis swivelled round and saw Porthos pushing his way through the crowd. He would have risen except that Athos put a hand on his arm and shook his head. He subsided even though his heart was starting to pound as his temper rose.

"Thank God," Porthos said. "I was worried when you took off like that."

"Why would you be concerned about me?" Aramis asked, his voice cold.

"I need to tell you what's goin' on."

"It's a little late for that."

"Hear him out, Aramis." Athos leaned back and studied Porthos. "You've been visiting the Court of Miracles. Why didn't you tell us?"

Porthos looked away embarrassed. "I knew Aramis wouldn't understand. Not after what they did to him."

"You didn't trust me enough to give me the chance," Aramis said.

"I didn't want to cause you any more pain," Porthos protested.

"How long as this been going on?" d'Artagnan asked.

"Almost a month. Flea sent me a message. Asked me to visit."

"Why?" Aramis asked bluntly.

"The people are dyin'. After the Cardinal tried to poison them his Red Guard still failed to clear them out. I don't imagine that sat well with the King. Now Rochefort's taken an interest and tightened the stranglehold. He's even more of a bastard than the Cardinal was. It's almost impossible to get food in so Flea's rationin' it."

"What did she expect you to do?" Aramis wasn't an unfeeling man and the thought of children going without enough food was abhorrent to him.

"She thought we might be able to come up with a way to get the Red Guard to back off. It's why she ordered you taken in the first place. She never expected us to steal the tax money but thought if we saw the desperation and misery we would help. Instead we were only interested in savin' you. Flea knows she made a mistake and she regrets it."

"You sound as if you expect me to forgive her."

"It wasn't her that hurt you," Porthos said defensively.

"The men responsible were acting under her orders."

"See, this is why I didn't want to tell you." Porthos' said, his own anger coming to the fore.

"Gentlemen," Athos said. "Arguing isn't going to help the situation. Porthos, you realise you are going against the King in this. He wants the Court cleared so that it can be redeveloped."

"Where are the people supposed to go? It's their home."

"That isn't our concern."

"Well it should be. We're meant to be honourable men who help those in need."

"The Court is filled with thieves and murderers," Aramis said harshly. "What do we owe them?"

"There're some bad people there. I'm not denyin' that. But most of them are just poor. D'you think it's just to condemn women and children to a slow death? I know what it's like to starve and I wouldn't wish that fate on anyone. There was many a night I went to sleep with hunger rumblin' in my belly. And, this is worse. Sometimes it is days before any food reaches them."

"We are not unsympathetic," Athos said. "However, I fail to see what we can do to make a difference."

"Come and see for yourselves what it's like. Look into the eyes of dyin' children and then tell me there's nothin' we can do."

"Aramis?" Athos looked at him somberly.

"I have no wish to return to the Court." He held up a hand to still the protest he could see forming on Porthos' lips. "But I will do so."

Porthos' frown turned to a smile. "Thank you. I'm sorry I lied to you."

"You had your reasons." Aramis turned away, his gut churning. Despite his conciliatory words he was having a hard time looking at Porthos. He could feel a distance growing between them which he didn't know how to bridge. Worse was the fact he wasn't sure that he wanted to.

Tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**Reconciliation**

 **Chapter Four**

Aramis didn't set out to avoid Porthos but when Treville called for a volunteer for a solo mission he found himself stepping forward. He caught a glimpse of Athos' raised eyebrow and immediately felt ashamed of his cowardice. He listened distractedly to his orders. He was to deliver a package to an estate two days ride from the city. It was a gift from the King to one of his favourites. In truth it was a waste of a good soldier's time but Aramis welcomed the opportunity for solitude to examine his feelings towards Porthos and steel himself for the visit to the Court of Miracles.

When they were dismissed Athos pulled him to one side. "Why did you volunteer for this mission?"

"I felt the need to get out of Paris for a few days."

"It's Porthos, isn't it?"

"I don't know what you mean." Aramis couldn't look his friend in the eye, a sure sign that he was lying.

"I know this is difficult for you, but it is important to Porthos."

"I have given him my word that I will accompany him to the Court. Forgive me if I just need time to prepare."

"You could have done that without running away."

"You know nothing about it," Aramis said angrily. "You weren't there." His breathing began to speed up as the memories clustered around him.

Athos' tone softened. "What upsets you the most? The fact that Porthos has been back to the Court of Miracles or that he lied to you?"

"Leave me alone, Athos." He pushed past his friend, heading for the stables. The sooner he could leave the happier he would be. He gave orders to the stable boy before returning to his room to pack. He was completely unprepared for the fact that Porthos was waiting for him.

"What do you want?" He laid his saddlebags on the bed and rummaged in his cupboard for a clean shirt and underclothes.

Porthos stood in the middle of the room looking ill at ease. "Can't a friend come to bid you farewell?"

Aramis' mouth tightened as he rolled up his clothes and stuffed them into his saddlebags. "Well at least my absence leaves you free to visit the Court without worrying about upsetting me," he said harshly.

"You're not my keeper," Porthos said, his defensiveness making him reckless. "I don't have to answer to you for my actions."

"No, you don't." Aramis retrieved his bedroll. "Now, excuse me. I must be on my way."

Porthos crossed the space between them. "You have every right to be angry."

"You mistake me, my dear Porthos. I'm not angry."

"You're a damn bad liar."

"What do you want me to say?" Aramis demanded. "Do I wish you hadn't gone back to the Court? Yes, of course. More than that, I wish you had trusted me enough to tell me the truth." He gathered up his belongings, slinging the saddlebags over his shoulder. "Soldiers have nothing if they can't trust their comrades." He stared unapologetically at Porthos.

"Is that all we are now? Comrades?" Porthos asked, hurt to the core.

Aramis resolve faltered. "I don't know. That's why I have to get away for a while."

"I see." Porthos stood aside. "Travel safely."

Aramis felt his throat clog with emotion. "Thank you." He left Porthos standing forlornly in his room.

TMTMTM

Winter was just releasing its hold on the land, giving way to an early spring. Aramis sat close to the fire, turning the rabbit on a spit and watching the fat drip into the flames, making them crackle and dance. He had made good time and should arrive at his destination by nightfall the next day. He'd enjoyed the ride so far, reveling in the freedom and solitude. He'd deliberately turned his thoughts away from Porthos, concentrating instead on the subtle signs of the changing seasons. Snowdrops and crocuses bloomed and the first buds were appearing on the trees. Birds sang joyously from the branches seeking their mates. It was still too early for the ewes to have lambed but he could see that they were heavily pregnant. The few people he passed greeted him cordially as they went about their tasks with lighter hearts now that the cold weather was receding.

He settled back against his saddle to eat, juggling the roasting hot meat so as not to burn his fingers. A flask of wine lay beside him, half consumed. He heard an owl hoot in the distance, the only sound disturbing his peace. Now his thoughts turned inwards while he tried to decipher his warring emotions. What had left him so unsettled? Porthos had every right to live his life as he wished. If that included reconnecting with his old friends who was he to complain? Was it jealousy that Porthos and Flea shared a history of which he could never be a part? Where did this deep sense of betrayal come from?

His stomach lurched when he contemplated returning to the Court and he chided himself for acting like a frightened child. He was a soldier, used to facing dangers. Why could he not face the fear and anger that such an endeavour evoked? He would be perfectly safe, surrounded by his brothers and with his weapons close at hand. Yet still the unease persisted. The Court was alien to him, its people unfathomable. He remembered their indifference to his plight and the casual violence with which he had been treated. He could have died there and not one person would have given him even a passing thought.

He finished his meal, washing it down with several mouthfuls of wine, while he contemplated the question Athos had posed. Porthos had lied to him. That was an undisputed fact. Did the reason for the lie make it better or worse? He believed Porthos had done it to protect him, misguided though that might be. But, it was a question of trust. He sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Try as he might he couldn't get past this feeling of betrayal. He lay down to sleep with nothing resolved in his mind.

TMTMTM

"D'you think he's ever goin' to forgive me?" Porthos asked plaintively.

"I don't know." Athos poured wine for both of them. "Aramis prizes loyalty above most other virtues."

"I was a fool. I should have told you all the truth."

"You had your reasons."

"I thought I did. Now, I'm not so sure."

"I don't pretend to understand what you hope to achieve, but I respect your right to try and make a difference."

"You haven't seen them. It was bad in the Court when I was growin' up, but never like this. The children cry themselves to sleep because they're so hungry. What little food we do manage to smuggle in past the guards is on the verge of goin' rotten. It ain't right."

"I don't approve of Rochefort's methods. However, you must remember that he is doing the King's bidding. The Court is finished, my friend. The people would do well to accept that and move on."

"Where are they supposed to go?" Porthos asked passionately. "It's the only home most of 'em have ever known. They wouldn't be accepted anywhere else. They'd end up livin' on the streets. At least where they are they have a roof over their heads."

"I wish I had some answers for you. Unless the King changes his mind nothing is going to get any better."

"Maybe we could appeal to Rochefort."

"You would be wasting your breath."

"Then I'll just keep doin' what I'm doin'."

Athos looked at him thoughtfully. "Even if it jeopardises your relationship with Aramis?"

"I won't abandon them."

"I see. Then we must do all we can to persuade Aramis that they are worth saving."

"How do we do that?"

Athos frowned unhappily. "I haven't the slightest idea."

Tbc


	5. Chapter 5

**Reconciliation**

 **Chapter Five**

When Aramis returned from his self-imposed exile his friends were all on duty at the palace. He settled down at the table in the yard to clear the dust of the road from his weapons. Musketeers came and went, going about their business. He greeted everyone cordially even though he was suffering from a deep feeling of trepidation. Treville came to check that he had delivered the package without mishap and stayed for a few minutes to talk. The whole time his attention was riveted to the archway, a sick feeling settling into the pit of his stomach. It was almost supper time before they returned. Athos spotted him first and nodded a greeting. D'Artagnan grinned at him. Porthos looked as sick as he felt.

"You're back," d'Artagnan called cheerfully as he dismounted.

"Yes. What did I miss?"

"There's been some unrest in the city," Athos said, sitting beside him. "It appears word has started to spread about the blockade around the Court of Miracles."

"Why would that concern people?" Aramis asked. He glanced at Porthos who was staring hard at the ground.

"People are worried. What if the King decides to clear other areas of the town for redevelopment? Between that, the increased taxes and the prospect of war with Spain it is an unsettled time."

"Someone must be stirring things up." Aramis looked at Porthos who grimaced.

"You accusin' me?" he said hotly.

Aramis dropped his eyes. "No, of course not."

"You think I would have anythin' to do with riotin' in the streets?"

"Easy, Porthos," Athos said. "Aramis wasn't insinuating anything."

"Sounds to me like he was."

"Gentlemen, this isn't helping. There are a number of factors at play here and the Red Guard hasn't exactly been subtle."

"They don't know the meaning of the word," d'Artagnan said.

"You ready to see for yourself what it's like inside the Court?" Porthos challenged, his gaze resting uneasily on Aramis.

"I've had a long ride," Aramis muttered. The mere thought of stepping into the Court sent his heart rate racing.

"So your comfort is more important that starvin' women and children?" Porthos asked.

Aramis flushed angrily. "Very well. If that's what you want."

"I wanted none of this."

"Neither did I." Aramis met Porthos stare with equal intensity.

"We said we would come with you and we will," Athos said, to relieve the tension between the two men. "Lead the way."

Aramis could feel the unease in the streets. Everyone looked sullen and watched their progress with suspicion. He heard one man mutter that they were the lackeys' of a heartless King. When he would have stopped to confront the man Athos urged him to keep moving.

"If we engage with them we risk an escalation," Athos said. "We have been ordered to keep the peace, not do anything that might incite further violence."

When they reached the boundary with the Court they had to wait for a pair of Red Guards to move on. As soon as they stepped inside they found people lining the streets and standing on the walkways above them. Many of them were armed with knives or hatchets. Aramis swallowed down his sudden fear and gripped the hilt of his sword.

Porthos stopped and held up his hands. "They're with me and we're not here to cause trouble."

"We don't need no Musketeers here," one man shouted.

A human barricade had formed across the street. Aramis' hand itched to draw his weapon but he knew it would be suicidal. He stood as relaxed as he could when faced with an armed and angry mob. With a conscious effort he relinquished his hold on his sword although he was ready to react if they were attacked.

The stand-off continued until Flea pushed her way through the mass of hostile people. "What's this?" She placed her hands on her hips and regarded Porthos steadily.

"We've come to help."

Aramis stirred at this, only subsiding when Athos put a hand on his arm.

Flea looked at him and her hard expression softened. "Aramis. I owe you an apology for the way you were treated last time you were here."

He continued to stare at her unspeaking and saw a slight flush appear on her cheeks. He had no interest in making her feel better about his abduction.

"I hope you are fully recovered," she said with a catch in her voice.

"I am."

Athos stepped forward. "Porthos has explained about the conditions here."

"We're dying."

"You understand that we are the King's men. We swore an oath of loyalty to him and we are honour bound to uphold his laws."

"How is it honourable to starve people to death?"

"I'm sure the King doesn't know what Rochefort, and Richelieu before him, have done."

"That's no excuse. Come and see what your 'honourable' King has done."

For the next hour Flea escorted them around the Court. At almost every home they found at least one person sick. The worst were the children with big eyes in sunken faces. Their arms and legs were so thin they looked like they would snap like a twig. Aramis was far from immune for their plight, particularly when he saw a small group of children nestled in ragged blankets in the ruins of a home. An older girl had her arm around a boy who looked no older than three. She stared at them with fear and hostility.

"Where are their parents?" he asked, almost unwillingly.

"Dead."

"They have no-one to care for them?" d'Artagnan asked. He looked ill.

"We do what we can."

"This is what it was like for you?" Aramis asked Porthos. He had no experience with this. His had been a loving home with both parents living. He couldn't imagine what it must be like to feel so abandoned and alone.

"There was more food. Our King wasn't tryin' to starve us out." Porthos crossed his arms and gave Aramis an unfriendly look.

"I refuse to believe the King is a party to this," Aramis said. Although his resolve was wavering.

"Well he ain't doin' anythin' to stop it, is he?"

"This isn't our problem," Athos said. He alone had his feelings well hidden.

"You would abandon us?" Flea asked angrily.

"I didn't say that."

They reached a section of the Court that Aramis recognised. Here was the room where he had been held captive and beaten. He stiffened and withdrew from his friends to lag behind. He saw Athos look over his shoulder, concern clear on his face. They passed the house where he had tended to the sick woman. "Did she survive?" he asked.

Flea's face fell. "She survived the poison but it weakened here. She developed fluid in her lungs and couldn't…" She broke off with a muffled sob.

"I'm sorry." That was the truth. The old woman hadn't deserved to suffer like that.

"You saved many lives, Aramis. Despite what you endured here you helped us. I..,we are grateful."

Aramis didn't want her gratitude. What he wanted was to be far away from his present surroundings. "I can't stay here," he said, suppressing a shudder. "I'm going back to the garrison." He turned and strode away.

Tbc


	6. Chapter 6

**Reconciliation**

 **Chapter Six**

He was lost. He'd been so angry when he parted from the others that he hadn't taken any notice of his surroundings. It was a stupid mistake and one that could get him killed. The three men presently barring his path were all armed. They'd demanded his purse and he had made it equally clear that he wasn't going to hand it over. Aramis drew his sword, holding it parallel to his leg. The men crept closer, knives held threateningly in front of them. They had spread out so that he had to circle to keep them all in view. To his surprise they didn't all rush him together. The man in the centre lunged at him and Aramis easily parried. That was when the other two made their move, approaching from either side. He had an advantage in that his sword was longer than their knives and he had his speed. He disarmed one, burying his sword in the man's shoulder. Before he could withdraw it he felt a hot pain across his left arm. Blood began to drip from the wound. He stepped back, the exertion of the fight making his breathing harsh. He had been so preoccupied with his opponents that he hadn't realised a fourth man had come up behind him. A hard blow to the back of his head sent him to his knees and then he was falling to sprawl in an ungainly heap on the ground. He'd lost his sword although he didn't remember letting go of it. He fumbled behind his back to draw his main gauche but his hand was kicked away from it. He looked up through bleary eyes and death stared back at him.

"Get away from 'im!" Porthos' voice was loud and full of fury.

Aramis' gaze didn't waver from the man standing over him, knife poised to descend.

"What's it to you?" the man asked.

"He's my brother," Porthos growled menacingly.

That should have made Aramis feel something but the truth was that he was numb. He saw his assailant take a step back, his resolve wavering.

"I know you. You're that Musketeer that used to live 'ere."

"I'm the Musketeer who's goin' to run you through if you don't leave 'im alone."

The man thought about that for a moment before retreating further. "Didn't know 'e was a friend of yours."

Aramis, sensing that the threat was over, allowed his aching head to fall gently back until it was resting on the ground. He heard the sound of retreating feet and then Porthos was standing over him.

"Are you hurt?"

The cut to his arm was throbbing but it was a minor inconvenience compared to the pain in his head. "Nothing that won't heal." He saw Porthos offering his hand but chose to ignore it in favour of staying where he was.

"You were a damn fool to go wanderin' off on your own," Porthos said aggressively as he let his arm drop back to his side.

Aramis rolled over so that he could get to his hands and knees, where he stayed for a few moments until the dizziness had passed. He got to his feet and stood, not quite steadily, to glare at Porthos.

"These people that you are so anxious to help just tried to kill me…again. Is it any wonder that I don't want anything to do with your deluded attempt at being a good Samaritan?"

"It's not deluded," Porthos said harshly. "And, if you'd stayed with the rest of us this wouldn't 'ave happened."

"You can rationalise it any way you like but these are thieves and murderers. The King is right to want to clear the Court."

"They're poor and desperate. You saw that for yourself."

"I saw people who have never done an honest day's work in their lives. It would be a blessing if the Court were gone. They could mingle with the rest of the populace and find a way to earn a living that doesn't involve cutting someone's throat."

"You're not that naive," Porthos responded hotly. "They would stand no chance outside the boundaries of the Court."

"You did." Aramis swayed and put out a hand to steady himself against the wall.

"I was different. I wanted something better."

"So that makes you unique?" Aramis asked nastily. "Who's to say there aren't others who would prosper equally well?"

"Even after everythin' you've seen you still don't understand anythin'."

Aramis' headache increased in intensity, making him feel nauseous. He knew he would have to sit down soon to avoid the indignity of collapsing. Porthos must have seen the change in his face because he crossed the distance between them and put his arm around Aramis' waist.

"Come on. The others are waitin'."

His pride would have made him pull away but common sense prevailed and he allowed Porthos to lead him back to Athos, d'Artagnan and Flea.

"What happened?" Athos asked.

"I was attacked." He looked challengingly at Flea who had the grace to look embarrassed.

"I think it's time you left," she said. "Tempers are running high."

"Where are you hurt?" Athos' eyes were drawn to the cut on his arm.

"He was hit over the head," Porthos said. "He's none too steady."

"Then we should return to the garrison." Athos turned to Flea and briefly inclined his head. "Thank you for showing us the conditions here. I cannot promise anything but we will see what we can do."

Aramis pulled away from Porthos even though it made his head spin. "You still want to help them?"

"Think of the children, Aramis," d'Artagnan begged. "Would you really see them starve?"

"There is nothing we can do. The King wants this area cleared. Who are we to oppose him?"

"We will discuss it," Athos said, firmly closing the discussion. "We have been gone long enough and Aramis needs to rest."

They left the Court of Miracles without further incident. Aramis breathed a shaky sigh of relief once they were back in the regular thoroughfares of the city. Porthos strode angrily ahead of them while Athos stayed close by his side ready to offer assistance if needed. D'Artagnan, he noted, kept looking back the way they had come and it was apparent that Porthos had at least one convert to his cause.

Upon their return to the garrison Aramis excused himself and went to his room, rejecting all offers of assistance. He tended to his arm before lying down and closing his eyes. He knew that his head injury was relatively minor and that a good night's sleep would see him mostly recovered. However, sleep eluded him as he pondered on the gulf that was opening up between him and his friends. Try as he might he couldn't see a way to bridge it.

Tbc


	7. Chapter 7

Some people have questioned why Aramis is so resolutely determined not to help given his comments to Athos and Porthos at the end of The Court of Miracles. Well, Athos has been wondering the same thing and the answer is in this chapter.

 **Reconciliation**

 **Chapter Seven**

Aramis was late for breakfast. It had been an awkward and frustratingly slow task to unwrap the bandages around his knife wound, clean and cover it again. The endeavour hadn't been helped by the headache that had settled behind his eyes. Fortunately the sun was only just peeking over the horizon so he didn't have to content with the brightness of full daylight. Much to his consternation he found Athos waiting for him in the refectory.

"Porthos and d'Artagnan are on their way to the palace," Athos said when he saw Aramis looking around. "You are on light duties today."

Aramis sat opposite his friend. "You told Treville?"

"I didn't have to. I am handing out the work details today and you, my friend, are staying in the garrison."

It was a blessing although Aramis had no intention of admitting that. "You are too cautious."

"I'm not taking any chances when it comes to a head injury." Athos looked at him critically. "You don't look as bad as I expected. Headache?"

"Manageable."

"Your arm?"

"A scratch only. It will heal in no time." That wasn't entirely the truth and Athos' raised eyebrow showed that he wasn't fooled. Aramis helped himself to a bowl of porridge from the pot on the table. It was luke-warm and not very appetising particularly given the unsettled nature of his stomach. He glanced at Athos, whose expression told him he was about to face an unpleasant interrogation. He gave up the pretense of eating. "If you would give me my orders for the day I'll get started."

"Not yet." Athos pinned his wrist to the table to stop him rising. "I want to know what's going on with you. It isn't like you to be so callous."

Aramis flushed and looked down at the table. "I don't know what you mean."

"After we rescued you from the Court you told me you wished you could have done more for its people. Now you have the chance yet at every turn you are choosing to ignore their suffering. I understand that you are angry with Porthos for lying to you but this is something more."

"Perhaps I am not feeling so charitable now."

"That much is clear. I want to know what changed."

Aramis drew in a shuddering breath. Athos' patience was at an end and he knew he would either have to offer up the truth or risk the loss of all his friends. "My knee."

Athos released him and sat back with a frown. "I don't understand. Your injury healed, did it not?"

"Not entirely. I was left with a weakness, nothing serious, just irritating. Then, about a month ago it began to worsen."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I thought I would recover but that hasn't proved to be the case. I am in constant pain with it."

"You hide it well."

Aramis could see the self-loathing on Athos' face. One of his brothers had been suffering and he hadn't noticed. Their de facto leader would always take that hard. "I have been taking pain medication. It helps enough that I can function without too much restriction. But, what happens if it continues?" He swallowed before confessing his deepest fear. "What if Treville finds out and decides I am not fit to be a Musketeer?"

"It won't come to that."

"You don't know. When I found out Porthos had been visiting the Court all I could think about was my time there as a hostage and the damage done to my knee. It could end my career. Yes, I was angry with him for not telling me but more than that I am angry with those who caused my injury and those who stood by and let it happen. I have no room left for compassion."

"Why hide it from us? Why have you allowed your friendship with Porthos to be damaged? He would understand if you told him the truth."

"He is not to know. I want your word, Athos. He will blame himself and I wouldn't have him carry that burden."

"So you would rather allow your friendship to wither and die over a misunderstanding?"

Aramis laced his fingers together to stop them shaking. "Yes."

"You are a fool."

"That may be but it is my secret to keep."

"Very well. I will respect your wishes, for now. You realise though that there may come a day when you can no longer hide the problem?"

"I will deal with that situation if it ever arises."

"I have one condition for my silence. I want your word that you will go and see the doctor."

"I will. Thank you, my friend."

TMTMTM

It was mid-afternoon by the time Porthos and d'Artagnan returned to the garrison. Aramis was in the armoury cleaning a batch of pistols when Athos came to find him.

"Will you join us? D'Artagnan has news."

Aramis wiped his hands on a clean cloth and followed Athos to the stables. He glanced only briefly at Porthos before turning away but it had been enough to show him that the big man was looking tired. D'Artagnan, in contrast, was practically vibrating with excitement.

"I spoke to Constance about the problems in the Court. She is going to speak to the Queen."

Aramis felt as if a cold hand had clutched his heart. "You would involve the Queen in this? Don't you understand how dangerous it is?"

"She is a brave woman. Look how she went to Emilie's camp to speak to her even though she knew the Spanish were hated."

"She nearly lost her life," Aramis said, anger growing in him.

"We're not suggestin' that she visits the Court," Porthos said defensively.

"What then? You would have her go against the express wishes of the King? You know she has no influence with him while he is besotted with Milady de Winter."

D'Artagnan looked downcast at Aramis' heated words. "It was just an idea."

Aramis rested a hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder, chastened by his young friend's obvious distress. "I am sorry for my harsh words. I know you were only doing what you thought was right."

"We will understand if you want nothing to do with this," Athos said. "After all, to oppose the King is to commit treason."

He was being handed a choice, one which he found distasteful. He could walk away from his friends or he could stay and help them find a solution to the problems within the Court. D'Artagnan was watching him with a hopeful expression while Porthos couldn't look at him. Athos, who knew precisely what he was doing, had a mildly quizzical look on his face.

"I don't approve of involving the Queen but neither will I desert you."

"You will help us then?" Athos asked.

"As long as it doesn't endanger the Queen."

"Understood. We would never knowingly put her in peril. We will await word from Constance." Athos turned to leave the stables.

When Aramis went to follow he found Porthos standing in his path.

"I know this isn't easy for you," Porthos said. "But I can't leave them to starve."

It was an apology and an overture of friendship. Aramis wished he could accept it. He wished that his knee didn't hurt so much and would have given anything to lose the constant fear surrounding his continued life with the Musketeers. It was all too overwhelming and he found himself nodding curtly before following Athos from the stables.

Tbc


	8. Chapter 8

I'm sorry for the long delay in posting this chapter. I lost my way with the story.

 **Reconciliation**

 **Chapter Eight**

"Oh, the poor children." Queen Anne looked stricken.

Constance knew that the Queen was thinking about her own son and empathising with those mothers in the Court who had to watch their children suffer. She had been horrified when d'Artagnan had come to her and explained about the conditions in which the people were living. She hadn't hesitated when he asked that she confide in the Queen.

"What can we do to help?" Constance asked. "It is the King who has ordered the Court to be cleared."

"I don't believe he would condone Rochefort's methods."

Constance wasn't so sure about that but could hardly criticise the King. "He has a lot on his mind. The new taxes have proved to be unpopular. There have been some riots in the city and there seems to be a never ending stream of noblemen seeking an audience to complain."

"Nonetheless, I will speak to him. I understand his wish to clear the Court but there has to be something we can do. I know we can't help everyone, Constance. If there was only some way to find food and shelter for the little ones."

"Perhaps that's the answer. D'Artagnan told me that many of the children are orphans. What if we found someplace safe for them to live away from the Court? Surely that wouldn't conflict with the King's desire to clear the area."

"What a wonderful idea. I'm sure we can find an empty building to house them and I have resources of my own that can be used to provide food and care." Anne smiled at her companion. "Send for Athos and his friends. We need to move quickly."

"Will you tell the King?"

"When the time is right. I would prefer to have everything in place before I speak to him."

TMTMTM

Aramis was in his room when the summons came from the palace. He was furious that d'Artagnan had involved the Queen and had declined to join his friends for dinner. Now, though, he would have to track them down. He hoped that Anne wasn't going to do something impulsive as she had when visiting Emilie's rebel camp. He didn't know what he would do if she expressed an interest in going to the Court of Miracles.

Before leaving his room he mixed a pain draught, choking down the bitter liquid. His knee continued to pain him and he could feel that it was swollen. It was becoming harder to ignore the impulse to limp and it worried him that Treville would notice. He fully intended to keep his promise to Athos to seek the aid of a physician but finding the time to do so was a challenge. With the riots and discord at the palace they were all on duty for long hours.

He left the garrison and headed first for the Wren. The wine might not be of the highest quality but the food was good and it had become the location of choice for the four of them. He wasn't looking forward to facing them. Although Athos knew the truth the other two were still in the dark. D'Artagnan had firmly sided with Porthos after seeing the conditions for himself, and the young man was struggling to understand how he could be so heartless. He could feel their brotherhood tearing itself apart yet still he wouldn't yield to the impulse to tell Porthos what was really bothering him.

The Wren was quiet and he had no difficulty locating his friends. As he entered the building a particularly painful twinge ran through his knee and he had to stop in the doorway until it passed. He bit his bottom lip to stop a groan and sucked in a sharp breath. He clung to the door frame, resting the majority of his weight on his good leg. He began to feel dizzy. Fortunately the intense pain receded quickly leaving behind the persistent ache that now accompanied him every day. He carefully walked down the two steps and crossed the floor to his friends' table.

"Aramis. We didn't expect to see you," Athos said. "Is something wrong?"

"We have been summoned by the Queen." He tried to keep his tone neutral but could tell from the scowl on Porthos' face that he had failed.

D'Artagnan, however, grinned. "Constance must have spoken to her."

"So it would seem." Athos stood up and retrieved his hat. "We shouldn't keep Her Majesty waiting." He set off towards the door with d'Artagnan following behind.

"Why are you so dead set against us askin' the Queen for help?" Porthos asked belligerently.

"I would have thought that was obvious." Aramis turned away only to be pulled to a standstill.

"Why don't you explain it to me?"

"You are asking her to go against the wishes of the King."

"That's not it."

Aramis couldn't confess that his love for the Queen had made him afraid that she was going to do something to put her safety at risk. "Very well. The people of the Court are violent and entirely without conscience. You are involving her, and us, in something dangerous."

"Are you sayin' you feel nothing for them? You saw the damage Rochefort's blockade has done. Can you live with the death of children on your conscience?"

Aramis' temper flared. "You have embroiled us in a situation that is none of our business. Now the Queen has been snared as well. There is nothing that can be done to help. You would realise that if you weren't so blinded by your infatuation with Flea."

"What did you say?" Porthos asked dangerously.

"That woman is using you. She is trading on the relationship you once shared."

"Flea's a good woman. She's only lookin' out for those who can't help themselves." Porthos stood rigidly with his hands curled into fists. "You're the one who can't see past what happened."

"They almost killed me," Aramis said, his voice rising. "How am I supposed to forgive that?"

"What you mean is you can't forgive me for being the cause of it."

"I didn't say that."

"You're right. You didn't but I'm not a fool."

Porthos pushed past him and Aramis reached out to catch his arm. With a snarl Porthos turned back, his right arm swinging. The punch caught Aramis on the jaw. He stumbled backwards, shocked beyond measure, and his knee gave way. He crashed to the floor, his leg twisting under him. The pain took his breath away and white dots danced before his eyes. He heard a rush of feet.

"What have you done?" Athos sounded equal parts shocked and angry.

"I didn't hit him that hard," Porthos said. "What's wrong with him?"

He tried to reach out to Athos, to beg him not to tell Porthos the truth, but his breath was coming in harsh gasps now and he couldn't get the words out.

"It's his knee. The one that was damaged when he was held prisoner in the Court."

Athos' arm was around his shoulders, supporting him and helping him to sit up. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor, unwilling to look at Porthos.

"That's what this is all about?" Porthos asked sounding dazed. "I thought it had healed."

"We all did."

With Athos' help he was able to stand up and then sink down onto a chair. "The Queen is waiting for us," he said, his voice unsteady.

"Can you walk?" Athos asked.

"The pain will pass. Leave me here."

"That's not what I asked."

"No, not unaided."

"D'Artagnan, stay with him. Porthos and I will go to the palace. When he can move get him back to the garrison and make sure Treville doesn't see him."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Porthos asked.

"We will discuss this later," Athos said decisively.

Aramis watched through a haze of pain as Athos and Porthos left. He didn't know if he was relieved or angry. He only knew that he was facing an unpleasant conversation when they returned.

Tbc


	9. Chapter 9

**Reconciliation**

 **Chapter Nine**

Aramis leaned forward, almost curling in on himself with the throbbing pain. His hand hovered over his damaged knee, reluctant to touch it in case it worsens the situation. He was aware of d'Artagnan sitting next to him, radiating concern and knew he should straighten up and pretend that the agony wasn't lancing through his leg. It is beyond him, though. It isn't only the physical discomfort that is destroying him. His emotions are a mess. He drove Porthos to hit him. His best friend laid hands on him in anger and he doesn't know how to solve that particular problem. His teeth sink into his lower lip so that he can stifle an undignified whimper. There is a hand on his shoulder, the only comfort d'Artagnan can give. He squeezed his eyes shut to forestall the tears caused by the sharp pain that was twisting his stomach into knots.

"What can I do to help?"

D'Artagnan's voice sounded far away, outside the bubble surrounding his misery. When he had fallen he had twisted his knee again, resurrecting the symptoms he had experienced when he was first beaten. That injury had taken weeks to heal. Weeks in which he had been confined to bed and then to a chair, unable to leave his room for fear of doing further damage by putting weight on his leg. He didn't think he could endure that again. For days Porthos had avoided him, feeling guilty for what had occurred. How much worse would it be this time, when he had so successfully driven his brother away?

"There is nothing to be done except rest my knee," he said softly, speaking in between the waves of pain.

"We should get you back to the garrison."

"Yes. Just give me a minute." He sat up, breathing shallowly. Unless his symptoms alleviated overnight there wasn't much chance of keeping it from Treville. The Captain was too observant not to notice his limp. He swallowed down his fear and reached for d'Artagnan's arm. "Help me to stand."

D'Artagnan stood and then bent to snake an arm around his waist. "Whenever you're ready."

Putting most of his weight on his good leg Aramis pushed himself up, weaving a little from side to side until d'Artagnan tightened his grip. He felt light headed and very grateful for the support. Fortunately they were only a few streets away from the garrison but to his tortured mind it could have been miles. He took an experimental step forward and his knee almost buckled. The next step was easier, although he still felt as if a hot knife was buried under his skin.

D'Artagnan kept hold of him the entire way, taking more and more of his weight. When the archway came into sight Aramis pushed him away.

"I can manage."

Although his friend looked sceptical he drew back. "I'll go ahead and make sure Treville isn't there. Wait here."

Aramis leant against a wall, shaking with the exertion he had expended to get this far. It took only moments for d'Artagnan to return, far less time than Aramis needed to recover sufficiently to continue.

"The yard is empty."

He nodded and pushed away from the wall. His steps were halting and slow and he had to stop again at the entrance to the archway. D'Artagnan stayed close, ready to lend a hand if necessary. His stubbornness wouldn't let him fail. He began to move again, using one hand to keep in contact with the wall. When they entered the yard he drew in a deep breath and set his sights on the stairs. He knew that the effort to mount them would be the equivalent of climbing a mountain but still he pressed forwards. With d'Artagnan at his back, and a death grip on the bannister, he painfully hauled himself up one step at a time. By the time he reached the upper landing he was bathed in sweat and shivering in the chill of the night air.

"Thank you, d'Artagnan."

"You're welcome. Do you need anything else?"

"No. I have a pain draught in my room which will help and I'm sure the symptoms will have lessened by the morning." He reached the door leading to his room and bestowed a grateful smile on his young friend. "Good night."

"Good night." D'Artagnan continued down the corridor to his room.

Aramis went inside and sank carefully down onto his bed. He wondered what the Queen had decided and his stomach cramped at the thought of her becoming involved with the people of the Court of Miracles. They had no respect for authority and would see her charity as weakness. He prayed that she wouldn't take into her head to visit the slums, particularly as he was incapable now of protecting her. He lay down, wincing at the increased pain when he lifted his leg onto the mattress. Things were about to come to a head and he didn't know how he was going to survive them.

TMTMTM

Athos and Porthos presented themselves at the Palace. They were told to wait in an ornate anti-chamber while the guard sent word to the Queen. They both stood to attention. Athos glanced at his friend to find that Porthos was wearing a ferocious scowl.

"How long have you known?" Porthos asked.

"Not long."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Athos' stomach plummeted. "He swore me to secrecy."

"He still doesn't trust me."

"That wasn't the reason."

"What then?"

"You should discuss it with Aramis."

The door opened and Constance walked into the room. Her forehead furrowed when she realised that there were only two of them.

"Where are d'Artagnan and Aramis?"

"Aramis was feeling unwell. D'Artagnan stayed with him," Athos said.

"I hope it's nothing serious."

"We will convey your concern."

Constance's frown deepened but she didn't pursue the matter. "Her Majesty is waiting. This way." She led them through a pair of double doors into a sitting room.

The Queen was sitting on a settee, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "I expected all four of you," she said.

Athos, who knew the truth of the relationship, could see that she was disappointed by Aramis' absence. He bowed before speaking. "Aramis and d'Artagnan send their apologies. Aramis was taken ill and d'Artagnan undertook to get him safely back to the garrison." He saw her pale slightly at his words. "I can assure Your Majesty that it is nothing that need cause you concern. It is a reoccurrence of an old wound. With rest I am confident he will soon be back at his post."

"Please convey my wishes for a speedy recovery."

Athos inclined his head in a slight bow. "It will be my pleasure."

The Queen turned her attention to Porthos. "Constance has told me of the conditions in the Court of Miracles but I would hear it from you."

Porthos took a step forward and bowed. "The people are starvin'. It's particularly hard on the children. Food has to be smuggled in, avoidin' the Red Guard. I've been helpin' where I can but it isn't nearly enough."

"You understand that I can't go against the wishes of my husband. He wants to clear the Court for redevelopment. That doesn't mean I don't want to help. Constance and I have an idea that might at least alleviate some of the suffering."

"We want to help the children," Constance said. "Her Majesty is prepared to set up a home for them outside the Court. They will be fed and looked after."

"I will also see that they get an education and find apprenticeships for the older ones. We will take them away from a life of poverty and crime and give them an opportunity to makes their way in the world."

Athos glanced at Porthos, whose expression had softened. "Your Majesty is very generous. It won't be easy to persuade Flea though. She's the 'queen' of the Court if you know what I mean."

"Surely she will see the sense of the Queen's suggestion?" Constance said.

"It'll be a wrench for her, givin' up the children like that."

"She can still visit them." Anne looked at him imploringly. "It's the only help I can offer."

"I'm sure Flea will understand what you are trying to do," Athos said. "It will give the children hope."

"I'll talk to her," Porthos said. "Thank you."

They both bowed and left the Queen's presence. As they walked down the long corridor Athos turned to his friend.

"Do you think Flea will agree?"

"It'll be hard, but it's better than watchin' them go hungry. I'll go and see her tomorrow."

"What are you going to do about Aramis?"

"He's made it very clear what he thinks of me. If he wants to talk I'll listen but I'm not seekin' him out."

"You're each as stubborn as the other," Athos said in frustration. He resolved to speak to d'Artagnan. Maybe between the two of them they could find a way to bring their friends back together. The alternative didn't bear thinking about.

Tbc


	10. Chapter 10

**Reconciliation**

 **Chapter Ten**

The next morning Aramis was down in the yard before anyone else was awake. His knee had stiffened up overnight making his limp more obvious and it had taken an unhealthy amount of pain medication before he could make the short journey from his room. He sat with his leg stretched out in front of him and tried to breathe through the pain. While he struggled to compose himself the sun began to rise. Athos joined him just as the sky lightened with the first rays of the dawn.

"How do you feel?"

"It's manageable." The draught was finally doing its work, although the trade-off was a feeling of light-headedness.

"Somehow I doubt that. How are you going to cope if we are put on guard duty at the palace today? You're not fit and you're not doing anyone any good by pretending otherwise."

"What would you have me do?" Aramis asked, rousing himself from his stupor.

"Tell Treville the truth, send for the physician who tended you the last time and follow his advice. If you continue as you are you risk permanent damage."

"You would have me put my career in jeopardy?" he asked angrily.

"Isn't that what you're doing now? Tell Treville, or I will." Athos folded his arms and looked belligerently at his friend.

"You have no right!" Aramis hissed.

"It's for your own good."

D'Artagnan walked down the stairs, yawning. "Morning." He looked from one to the other and frowned. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing." Aramis glared at Athos who gazed serenely back at him.

"Alright," d'Artagnan said doubtfully. "What did the Queen say?"

"She is setting up a home for the orphaned children."

"That's very good of her." D'Artagnan looked at Aramis. "Isn't it?"

"Yes." Despite his hatred for the people of the Court he didn't want the children to suffer. What the Queen was proposing was a good compromise, giving aid without becoming embroiled with the criminal element of the population.

"What does Porthos think?" d'Artagnan asked.

"He was grateful. Now all he has to do is persuade Flea."

The yard was starting to fill up as men came down for their breakfast prior to the morning muster. There was still no sign of Porthos though, for which Aramis was immensely grateful. He knew that he owed his friend an explanation and an apology but had no idea how to go about it. Athos fetched bowls of porridge and they ate in silence. When the church bells stuck eight they all shuffled into lines to await Treville. Aramis stood as close to the back as he could manage, not wanting to be in Treville's line of sight. When he looked around he saw Porthos join Athos and d'Artagnan in the row ahead.

A few minutes later Treville emerged from his office and walked down the stairs, stopping before he reached the bottom. "The King has sent word that he intends to hunt today. He will require a full Musketeer escort. Saddle up your horses and be ready to leave in thirty minutes."

The crowd of men dispersed and Aramis grimaced. Hard as it was to walk it was even harder to be jostled around on a horse for hours. He caught Athos looking pointedly at him and sighed.

"Captain," he called.

Treville turned back to wait for him, frowning when he saw Aramis' uneven gait. "What's wrong?"

"I'm having trouble with my knee again."

"I can see that. When did this happen?"

Aramis' mouth went dry. "A couple of weeks ago but it worsened last night."

"Weeks? Have you seen the physician?"

"Not yet."

"Well, you're clearly not fit enough to accompany the King. Stay here. I'll send someone for the doctor."

Aramis' shoulders slumped and he nodded. He turned around to find his friends watching him closely. Porthos looked away quickly and walked off towards the stables. A small part of Aramis wanted to go after him but Porthos clearly didn't want to talk to him so he stayed where he was.

"I have been relieved of duty," he said. "I will see you this evening." With as much dignity as he could muster he slowly made his way back to his room.

TMTMTM

The King had broken off the hunt for the midday meal. Copious amounts of food had been laid out on long tables under a canopy and the King and his courtiers were sitting around waiting to be served. Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan stood at attention to the right of Louis, scanning their surroundings. Satisfied that there were no imminent threats Athos relaxed his stiff posture a fraction. He glanced at Porthos who was standing in the middle of the three.

"Are you going to talk to Aramis when we get back?" he asked.

"I told you last night…"

Athos didn't wait for the denial he knew was coming. "You've been friends a long time. Are you going to let a misunderstanding ruin that friendship?"

Porthos snorted rudely. "Misunderstandin'. That's a funny way to put it."

"Aramis doesn't distrust you," Athos said, his temper fraying. He was hot, tired and hungry and he'd had enough of watching his friends tear their relationship to shreds.

"Could have fooled me."

"He's worried about losing his position with the Musketeers."

"Doesn't mean he couldn't have talked to me about it."

Athos made a conscious effort to relax his hands which were curling into fists. "He thought you would blame yourself again for his injury. You remember how guilty you felt when he was abducted?"

"He persuaded me I wasn't at fault. He was taken because Flea wanted to attract my attention but it wasn't my doin'."

Athos could feel his hard-won self-control slipping. "Damn it, Porthos, he's hurting more than just physically."

"And the people of the Court are starvin'. He doesn't seem to care about that."

"How would you feel if Aramis had to leave the Musketeers?" d'Artagnan asked, joining the conversation for the first time.

There was a long silence.

"I wouldn't be happy about it."

"Then, imagine how he is feeling. His knee worsens just at a time when you are lying to him about visiting the Court. Can't you see how betrayed he feels?" Athos gaze slipped away from Treville who was watching them closely. He knew they were breaching protocol by talking while on guard.

"You know why I didn't tell him."

"Yes, for the same reason he didn't confide in you!" Athos lowered his voice. "You were each afraid of hurting the other and look how well that turned out." He shot a quick glance in Porthos' direction. The big man still looked cantankerous but he thought he saw a slight softening of his expression.

"Treville's coming this way," d'Artagnan hissed.

Athos stared straight ahead in silence. Treville stopped immediately in front of him, standing much too close for comfort. The Captain did not look happy.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, Sir."

"Then perhaps you could get back to guarding the King."

Athos kept his mouth shut and nodded curtly. With a huff of disapproval Treville turned away and went back to the table.

"I'm goin' to check the perimeter," Porthos said.

He was gone before Athos could think of a way to detain him.

"D'you think he listened to a word we said?" d'Artagnan asked.

"I don't know. I suppose we'll find out when we get back to the garrison." He worried about Aramis' state of mind. His secret was out now and his future hinged on the prognosis of the doctor. If they returned to find he was crippled for life there wasn't a force in the world that could mend the rift between the two men.

Tbc


	11. Chapter 11

**Reconciliation**

 **Chapter Eleven**

It was late into the evening by the time they returned to the garrison. Athos immediately went to Aramis' room only to find no light filtering out underneath the door. He swore softly and went back downstairs.

"It appears he's already asleep."

"Don't know why he'd be so tired seein' as he wasn't the one chasin' around after the King all day," Porthos said.

His forced nonchalance didn't fool Athos for a second. Porthos was as worried about their friend as he was even though there was a valiant effort to hide it.

"Maybe he received bad news today." D'Artagnan glared at his friend who was still proving to be too obdurate for anyone's liking.

"We can speculate as much as we like but we won't know anything for certain until we speak to him in the morning. I bid you goodnight, gentlemen." Athos, worn out by his worry about the rift between his brothers, made his way to his room where he had a very disturbed night's sleep.

It wasn't long after dawn when he again stood in front of Aramis' door. This time he knocked and waited to be invited to enter. Aramis answered the door wearing only his breeches. He stared at Athos for a moment as if surprised to see him. Or perhaps he wasn't the person Aramis had been hoping to see.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course." Aramis backed away from the door, returning to the bed to pick up his shirt.

Athos watched his movements carefully and thought they looked a little easier than the previous day. He also noticed the tangle of sheets and blankets which did not indicate a peaceful night. "Did you see the doctor?"

"Yes."

Athos refrained from rolling his eyes in annoyance. Clearly Aramis was not going to make this easy. "What did he say?"

Aramis, having put on his shirt, turned away to fetch his coat. "I have strained the ligaments around the knee again."

"What was his prognosis?" he asked with forced calm.

"With rest I should recover although he cannot guarantee it won't happen again." Aramis wrapped his sash around his waist and reached for his weapon's belt. "He is concerned that there may now be an inherent weakness." His voice was flat, without any inflection to indicate his mood.

"I assume he gave you some advice?"

"He recommended some exercises which he believes will help to strengthen the ligaments. He has put me on light duties for two weeks, after which he will reassess my progress."

"How do you feel?"

Aramis sat on the bed and ran a hand through his hair. "Honestly? Relieved that it will mend but still worried about the future."

"Treville will treat you fairly. He isn't going to throw you out of the regiment because of this."

"You don't know that. Our job is to protect the King. I can't do that if I can't trust my knee."

"Don't be too hasty. Follow the doctor's advice and see how you feel in a couple of weeks."

"You're right of course."

Athos couldn't tell if Aramis really agreed with him or was just saying that to bring an end to an uncomfortable conversation.

"Tell me, how was the hunt?"

"The King was happy. He brought down a stag. Are you coming for breakfast?"

Aramis picked up his hat, running the brim through his fingers. "How is Porthos?"

"Angry. He is having difficulty seeing just how alike the two of you are." Athos held up his hand to stop Aramis from interrupting him. "He lied to you because he wanted to protect you. You withheld information for the same reason."

"He is helping the people of caused my injury," Aramis said angrily.

"No, he isn't. The people who hurt you are dead. Porthos is helping the poor and dispossessed. I think I know you well enough to say that you would be helping him if not for what happened to you at the Court. It's time you put it behind you."

"How can I? I live with the results every day."

"Which is why you need to make your peace with Porthos. You are friends…brothers. It's not right that you should become so distant with one another."

Aramis seemed to deflate, sitting with hunched shoulders and his head bowed. "I don't know how. We have both said hurtful words."

"Talking to one another would be a good start."

"What if he doesn't want to hear what I have to say?" Aramis asked plaintively.

Athos was relieved that his friend hadn't dismissed the idea out of hand. Perhaps there was still hope. "Well, there is only one way to find out."

TMTMTM

The sun was just rising when Porthos slipped past the guards and into the Court of Miracles. He quickly made his way to the small house where Flea lived. She was building a fire in the hearth when he arrived.

"You're early," she said. "I haven't got much for breakfast."

"I'm not here to eat." He sat on a stool and watched her work. All her movements were assured and precise and she soon had the fire lit and a kettle of water suspended over the flames. "You have a new patron."

"Oh? Who?" She walked over and sat at his feet, leaning back against his legs.

He couldn't help reaching out to caress her hair. "The Queen."

Flea twisted round to look at him. "I know a falsehood when I hear one. Why would you say that?"

"Because it's true. D'Artagnan is close to the Queen's companion and got word to her of what is goin' on. The Queen's a good woman and wants to help."

"Why would see care about the likes of us?"

"She cares about all her people. And, she's a mother. She can understand what it would be like if her child were in danger."

"She can't know what it's like. She's only ever lived in luxury," Flea said dismissively. "Her son will never know what it's like to be hungry or cold."

"That's true. Doesn't mean she can't have compassion though for those in need."

"What's she going to do about it then? Tell the King to remove the blockade?"

"She can't do that. What she has offered to do is set up a home for the children outside the Court. They'll be fed, looked after and even given an education."

"She'd take away our children?" Flea asked in dismay.

"To give them a better life."

"I don't know, Porthos. It seems wrong. They belong here."

"They'll die here." Porthos stood up. "I have to get back to the garrison. Think about it and send word once you're ready."

"I will." She rose gracefully to her feet and caught his arm. "How are things between you and Aramis?"

"He's havin' trouble with his knee again and kept it from me. He's angry that I didn't tell him what I was doin' here and this is how he's punishin' me."

"So now you're angry with him." She shook her head. "You're a damn fool, Porthos. In fact I don't think either one of you has the sense you were born with. It's clear as day why he didn't tell you. He doesn't want you blaming yourself again for what happened."

"That's what Athos said too," Porthos said in a sulky tone.

"Then maybe you should listen to Athos. Aramis is as close to you as a brother. I won't watch the two of you tearing that relationship apart."

"What am I supposed to do about it?"

"Talk to him. Hear what he has to say. And, Porthos, don't come back here until you've made things right."

"You don't mean that."

Flea put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "If you believe that you're sadly mistaken. Now, get out of here. I have a lot to think about."

He left, her words ringing in his ears. The only trouble was he had no idea how to approach Aramis without making matters worse.

Tbc


	12. Chapter 12

**Reconciliation**

 **Chapter Twelve**

Porthos arrived back at the garrison just in time for morning muster. He edged into the back of the crowd, waiting while Treville handed out their assignments. He was to stay and train the latest crop of new recruits. Aramis was also given that task which meant, like it or not, they would be in close proximity for the day. He caught Athos watching him, his expression unreadable, and it occurred to him that his friend might have had something to do with it.

For a while the yard was a hubbub of activity as everyone sorted themselves out. Athos and d'Artagnan headed for the stables to fetch their horses. They were on patrol in the city. The general level of unease remained high and a visible military presence was helping to calm the mood.

Soon only he, Aramis and half a dozen cadets were left. It wasn't an appropriate time to ask Aramis about his knee as they split the group in half. He would teach hand-to-hand combat while Aramis concentrated on their shooting skills. He watched how Aramis was walking, trying to gauge the severity of the injury. He seemed to be better than the day before but he might have just got better at hiding it.

During the course of the morning he cast surreptitious glances at Aramis who seemed to be intent upon ignoring him. By lunch time he could feel his temper rising again. He fetched his meal and sat at their usual table outside. He was surprised when Aramis came to join him.

"May I?" Aramis asked.

"It's a free country."

They ate in uncomfortable silence while Porthos brooded over what Flea had said.

"How's your knee?"

Aramis glanced at him before returning his attention to his food. "Healing."

"Good."

They lapsed back into silence. Porthos ate even though the food suddenly seemed tasteless. When he was finished he got ready to stand up. "We should get back."

"Yes." Aramis sighed and began to fidget with his knife. "Porthos, would you like to go for a drink tonight?"

He'd been intending to go back to the Court to find out Flea's answer but his gut told him this was more important. "Yes, I'd like that."

Aramis gave him a tentative smile. "I'll see you at the end of training then."

They returned to the cadets. During the afternoon Porthos was distracted, playing over in his mind how he thought the conversation would go. He watched Aramis coaching the young men, demonstrating how to hold the pistol, how to stand and aim. Every so often he would see Aramis stop and rub his knee and his guilt began to blossom.

They wrapped up the training just as Athos and d'Artagnan returned. He saw Athos stop to speak to Aramis and then look in his direction. Porthos gritted his teeth and looked away. He felt on edge and upset with a most unpleasant feeling in his stomach. Then Aramis was in front of him, looking almost as bad as he felt.

"Are you ready?" When Porthos didn't respond his mouth tightened. "If you've changed your mind…"

"No. It's past time we talked."

They left the garrison and headed for the nearest tavern. Once seated they ordered wine. Porthos gulped down the first glass and poured a refill.

"The cadets are a promising bunch," Aramis said, his voice sounding strained.

"They have good teachers."

A flash of a genuine smile crossed Aramis' face. "True."

"Is your knee really getting better?"

The humour disappeared from Aramis' face. "It is."

"I'm glad."

"I know."

Porthos drank some wine, uncertain how to begin but it was Aramis who spoke first.

"I don't pretend to know what it was like for you growing up. I had both my parents, my sisters and a loving home. What I experienced in the Court was a level of violence that I have seldom experienced outside of the battlefield. I think if it hadn't been for my knee I'd have got over it quickly. It's not as if a soldier's life is safe. I have been to war and have lost comrades. But this isn't war. This is Paris; my home and it disturbs me that people can live like that."

"They're not all thugs and murderers, Aramis. They're mostly poor and desperate."

"They watched and did nothing to intervene. Your friend allowed it to happen."

"Flea didn't know."

"She should have made it her business to know. I was taken on her orders."

Porthos had no answer to the accusation. Aramis was right. Flea had chosen him because of their brotherhood. She had been the one in charge. "I'm sorry for what happened to you."

"So why go back to the Court without telling me?"

"I was trying to protect you."

"I don't need protection. I could have handled it."

"Well clearly you couldn't." Porthos' breathing was increasing as he became more agitated. "You only had to look at your face when we visited the Court to know you don't want anythin' to do with it."

"So that justifies you lying to me?"

Aramis' voice had risen and the people at the next table looked over with ill-concealed interested. Porthos glared at them and they turned away hastily.

"Yeah, it does."

"Anyone would think you were ashamed of going back there."

"I'm not ashamed of where I come from or of the fact that I'm tryin' to help the people survive the King's tyranny."

"Careful, Porthos. That sounded like treason."

"It's not treason to speak the truth."

"It is when it's the King you're talking about."

Porthos took several deep breaths to try and calm his erratic breathing. He knew Aramis was right but felt so riled up that he'd abandoned common sense. What right did Aramis have to judge him? He could see that the marksman was red in the face and just spoiling for a fight. Well, if that's what he wanted Porthos was more than willing to oblige.

"When did you become such a hard-hearted bastard?" Porthos asked nastily. "You saw the children. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't care what happens to them."

"Of course I care. I'm not the monster here."

"You callin' me a monster?"

"That's not what I…" Aramis made a visible effort to calm down. "This is coming out all wrong."

"It seems to me that you've made up your mind to condemn me for an act of charity. Tell me, Aramis, what would you have done if it was your family that was starvin'?"

"They're not your family. We are."

"Doesn't feel like it. Family's supposed to be supportive."

"Family isn't supposed to lie to you."

"Right. So how come you didn't tell me about your knee? Real up front and honest of you that was, wasn't it?"

"I was angry. I should have told you. I'm sorry."

The apology caught Porthos off guard. "Well at least you're tellin' the truth about one thing."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're angry because you're jealous that I chose Flea over you. That I went when she sent for me even though I knew you hated the Court and everyone in it."

"Do you blame me? She's the reason I was kidnapped. I expected better of my best friend. I thought you were supposed to watch my back."

"My decision had nothing to do with you. I'm not goin' to apologise for helpin' people who can't help themselves."

"I'm not asking you to apologise." Aramis leaned forward. "I just want you to understand my point of view."

"I do, which is why I didn't tell you." Porthos shook his head in frustration. "We're goin' round in circles. This is a waste of time." He stood up, pushing his chair back. "I'm goin' back to the garrison."

Aramis bowed his head. "If that's what you want."

"No, you know what? I'm goin' to the Court to see if Flea has made up her mind about the Queen's offer." Porthos turned away, intent upon putting as much distance as he could between him and Aramis.

Tbc


	13. Chapter 13

**Reconciliation**

 **Chapter Thirteen**

Aramis' palms were damp in contrast to his mouth which felt like a desert. He knew that if he allowed Porthos to leave he would lose a friend and brother for good. "Do you want some company?" he asked, wiping his palms on his breeches. He hoped Porthos couldn't detect the nerves he was feeling.

"Say what?" Porthos stopped and looked at him with undisguised shock.

"I asked if you wanted some company."

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"I can assure you that I am quite serious."

"Why?"

"Because you're right. What you're doing is a good thing and I let my prejudice blind me to that."

Porthos dropped back into his chair. "You mean that?"

"I can't tell you I'm happy but I do understand. People are dying. People you care about. It was selfish of me to hold you accountable."

"You'd really come with me?" Porthos leaned forward with an intense and unsettling stare.

Aramis was encouraged by the subtle shift in Porthos' demeanour and the almost pleading tone to his voice. "Yes. I have to get past my hatred of the Court if we are to have any future. It helps that I know my knee is going to heal. If I had been left with a permanent disability things might be different."

"But, the things I said…"

"You were standing up for what you believe in. Show me, Porthos. Show me the other side to the Court. The people who need our help."

"Gladly."

"I think it would make it easier to understand if I knew what your life was like." He studied his friend's face wondering if he had gone too far. "If you feel you can tell me."

Porthos poured more wine for them both and stared off into the distance. "It was hard. There wasn't anyone like Flea watchin' out for us when we were children. Flea, Charon and me, we lived on the scraps that we could steal. When we got older we stole and cheated and earned respect. We ran the streets. We were never violent, mind. I never killed anyone until I joined the army."

"Why did you leave?"

"I always felt there was more to life. I wanted more. Flea and Charon, they were content with what they had. I never felt right there."

"Yet you still feel a kinship with them."

"It's what a Musketeer does isn't it? Looks out for those who can't help themselves. You helped even after everything that happened to you."

"Yes, I did. I'd lost sight of that." He thought back to the elderly woman who had been close to death thanks to poison in her food. If not for him she wouldn't have survived the night. He couldn't deny that he had felt a warmth in his body at the knowledge that he had been of use.

Porthos sat back and crossed his arms. There was a challenge in his voice when he next spoke. "Why didn't you tell me about your knee?"

"I was afraid you would blame yourself like you did when I was taken."

"So you chose to risk our friendship instead?" Bitterness wasn't far from the surface.

Aramis gave a wan smile, knowing that this reconciliation wasn't going to be easy. "Not one of my better ideas."

"I thought you were punishin' me for helpin' them."

"Maybe I was. I was angry and hurt and I wasn't giving any consideration to your feelings. But, mostly I didn't want to burden you."

"You're an idiot."

Was he imagining a hint of fondness in Porthos' voice? He drew in a shuddering breath. "Perhaps. It seems like we were both trying to avoid hurting the other and ended up nearly destroying our brotherhood."

"Yeah, it looks that way." Porthos stood up and held out his hand. "If we're goin' to the Court we need to get our horses. I'm not havin' you walk all that way and worsenin' your knee."

Aramis grasped his hand and allowed Porthos to pull him to his feet. "We could collect Athos and d'Artagnan as well. I'm sure they would like to know what Flea's decided."

"Seems fair."

It wasn't far to the garrison but they walked in strained silence. Aramis was battling his nerves and had the feeling Porthos was afraid to speak in case he shattered their tenuous truce. They were within sight of the archway when Porthos stopped walking and turned to him.

"You don't have to come."

"I think this is something I need to do."

Porthos nodded. "If you're sure."

They found Athos and d'Artagnan in the mess hall finishing their dinner. Athos looked from one to the other with a raised eyebrow.

"We're goin' to see Flea. Wondered if you wanted to come," Porthos said.

"Have you resolved your differences?" Athos asked.

"We're working on it." Aramis directed a tentative smile at Porthos.

"You're really going back to the Court?" D'Artagnan sounded surprised.

"Yes. Are you coming?"

"Wouldn't miss it." D'Artagnan stood up and grinned at them.

Athos looked less enthusiastic. "Are you sure about this?"

"Of course," he lied. In truth his heart was hammering so hard he was surprised they couldn't hear it and he was breaking out in a cold sweat. But it was worth it just to see the pleasure on Porthos' face. He had come within a hair's breadth of losing his brother and he was determined to make sure that didn't happen.

"Well, then, let us go and see what the queen of the Court has decided." Athos stood and put his arm around Aramis' shoulders. "There is nothing to fear, brother. We will be with you."

"I know."

"What do you think Flea will do?" d'Artagnan asked.

Porthos shrugged. "No idea. It'd be hard to lose the children even though it would be the best thing for them."

"I don't imagine it will be her decision alone." Athos steered Aramis towards the door undoubtedly alive to the tension in his friend's shoulders.

"It's a difficult choice," Aramis said. He didn't envy her. The Queen had made a generous offer but it came at a cost. "No one could fault her if she turned it down."

They reached the stables and began saddling their horses. When Aramis mounted he pushed down his unease. This was his one chance to prove to Porthos that he was sincere and he didn't intend to waste it.

Tbc


	14. Chapter 14

**Reconciliation**

 **Chapter Fourteen**

It was a fragile peace. That much Athos could see from the way his two friends ignored each other on the way to the Court of Miracles. Porthos rode at the front with d'Artagnan while Aramis was to his right, looking plaintively at Porthos' back.

"What happened tonight?" Athos asked. He was answered with an uninformative shrug and a refusal to meet his gaze.

When they arrived at the outskirts of the Court they dismounted and tied their horses to a post. The number of Red Guards on patrol appeared to have increased and it took a few minutes before they were able to slip inside without being seen. The tension in the air was palpable as they walked through the streets. Although no-one impeded them it was obvious that they weren't welcome. At every turn people would stop what they were doing to watch them in hostile silence.

Aramis was particularly skittish, his head swivelling from side to side and his hand firmly clamped on his sword hilt. Athos sympathised although he would have been happier if his friend had been more relaxed. It wouldn't take much to provoke a riot; one which they would be unlikely to survive.

It was a relief to reach their destination. Porthos led the way inside where they found Flea and half a dozen children ranging in age from toddler to early teen. When she saw them she turned to one of the older girls.

"Amelie, look after the little ones."

Amelie nodded and chivied the other children over to a corner of the room.

"You shouldn't have come," Flea said. "There is a lot of anger in the streets. Some people say that the Queen is trying to steal our children."

Aramis flushed angrily. "She is offering them a better life."

"Peace, brother," Athos said, resting a hand on Aramis' arm to settle him down.

"How would you feel if someone were to take your child away from you?" Flea asked.

Athos felt Aramis stiffen and silently cursed her choice of words. Aramis knew exactly what it was like to lose a child to the care of others.

"If it was a choice between watching my child starve and giving it a chance at life I know what I would choose."

His voice rang loudly in the room and Athos saw the younger children huddling closer to Amelie who was doing her best to comfort them.

"Hey. There's no need to shout at her," Porthos said, his brow creased into a fearsome scowl.

Aramis bowed his head. "My apologies. It isn't my decision to make." Despite his conciliatory words his tone was unfriendly and laced with anger.

"The Queen is a good woman," d'Artagnan said. "She is only trying to help."

Flea's shoulders sagged. "I know."

"Have you reached a decision?" Athos asked.

"It's not my decision to make. I've talked to the people and they've agreed that the orphans can leave but those with parents will remain in the Court."

"They would still be able to see them," d'Artagnan said. "Don't they want to give the children a chance?"

"It would mean tearing families apart, d'Artagnan." Athos could see the anguish on the young man's face. "Don't despair. At least we are helping some of them."

"How many?" Aramis asked.

"Twenty three."

Athos' stomach tightened at the number. It was a pitiful percentage of the overall population. "Very well. We will convey this to the Queen. I imagine it will take a few weeks to arrange so if anyone changes their mind send word to us."

"I'm sorry we couldn't do more," Porthos said, walking forward to take her hand.

"It's more than anyone else has done to help us."

"I'll still come and help to hand out the food."

"It would be best if you stayed away for a while."

Porthos nodded reluctantly. "Will you be alright?"

"I've lived here all my life, Porthos. I'll be fine." She glanced over at Aramis. "Did you two make your peace?"

"We're workin' on it."

Aramis turned away on hearing that and walked quickly out the door. With an apologetic smile Athos followed him. He found him pacing up and down in front of the building.

"It isn't safe for any of us to be out here alone."

"I can look after myself."

"What has angered you?"

Aramis came to a dead stop. "I'm trying to make this work but after everything we've been through the Queen's offer just gets flung back in her face."

"Flea couldn't know how close to home she hit, Aramis. Tell me, how does it feel to watch the Dauphin from a distance? To be able to see him but not be a part of his life? That's what faces the people here. Would you really so easily give up your child to strangers?"

"That's not a fair question to ask me."

"No, it isn't. Just as it isn't fair to ask mothers to part with their children."

Footsteps heralded the arrival of Porthos and d'Artagnan.

"What's wrong with you?" Porthos asked harshly.

"Nothing."

"Here I thought we were makin' progress yet you're still lyin' to me."

Aramis' gaze turned cold. "I came here for you. I can't help it if I think they've made the wrong decision."

"That was noble of you," Porthos said with a sarcastic undertone to his voice. "Here I thought you'd come because you wanted to help."

"Gentlemen." Athos got in between them. "Haven't you done enough damage? Porthos, regardless of his reasons Aramis is here and that wasn't easy for him. Aramis, it isn't for us to judge. Now, I suggest we get out of here before anything happens."

They were still deep inside the Court when they were confronted by six heavily armed men who stood strung out across the road blocking their way.

"We're not lookin' for trouble," Porthos said, holding his hands away from his weapons.

"You're them interfering Musketeers." The man who had spoken was tall and lanky with straggly brown hair and several scars on his face.

"I resent that," Athos said. "I will give you one chance to apologise and get out of our way."

"Who asked you to come here anyway?" The gravelly voice belonged to a man who was easily as muscular as Porthos.

"Flea." Porthos crossed his arms over his chest. "Now, we've asked you nicely to let us past."

"I don't think they understand the consequences of crossing Musketeers," Aramis said,

Athos could hear the strain in his friend's voice. Aramis would never back down from a fight but this was just another example of the dangers facing outsiders who dared to venture into the Court. It would do nothing to persuade Aramis that the people deserved their help. He drew his sword. "We don't want to fight you but we will if you insist."

Three more swords left their scabbards as all four Musketeers stood ready to meet the challenge.

Tbc


	15. Chapter 15

I can't believe that we have come to the final chapter of this story. I struggled with it a times so I am grateful to everyone who completed the journey with me.

 **Reconciliation**

 **Chapter Fifteen**

Aramis only had time for a fleeting thought about the state of his knee before the men attacked. It had held up well while he was just walking but he knew it wasn't stable enough to see him through a prolonged fight. The two largest men had converged on Porthos and he found that he was facing the man who had first confronted them. Athos and d'Artagnan between them were dealing with the remaining three of their attackers. Aramis parried a stroke that would have skewered him if it had connected. He retreated hesitantly and knew the instant his opponent realised that he was at less than full strength.

He was driven rapidly backwards, his steps stumbling and accompanied by ever increasing pain. When he tried to go on the offensive his knee nearly buckled beneath him and he only caught his balance by reaching out for a nearby wall. He began to feel dizzy. Shaking his head to dispel the feeling he willed his body forward. Despite his handicap his sword play was clearly superior and he managed to keep the man at bay for longer than expected. He could see the frustration building the longer he resisted. The blows aimed at him became more erratic and harder to predict.

There was a sudden spasm in his knee and he momentarily lost concentration. The tip of the man's sword pierced his left shoulder and he gasped before sweeping the weapon aside. Blood began to trickle down his arm. He was tiring rapidly and every movement of his knee was agony. He slashed wildly, grunting in satisfaction when he scored a furrow down the man's cheek. For the first time his opponent retreated, breathing heavily. Aramis could hear the sounds of fighting surrounding him but couldn't spare any attention to see how his friends were faring.

When the next attack came his knee gave out and he crashed heavily to the ground, crying out when his knee impacted the cobbles of the street. Desperately he raised his sword to ward off the next blow. Only it didn't come. The hilt of Porthos' sword came crashing down on the man's head and he crumpled to the ground. Only then, did Aramis realise the fight was over. He looked up into Porthos' concerned gaze and gave a shaky sigh. He slumped from his knees to his backside and leaned back against the wall.

There was a buzzing noise filling his head and he had the unpleasant feeling that he was on the verge of passing out. "You had my back," he said, his voice weak.

Porthos dropped to his knees. "Of course I did, you damn fool." He carefully eased Aramis' coat aside to see his shoulder. "You're bleeding."

"A scratch only." He leaned forward so that his head hung lower and took several deep breaths to try and stave off the encroaching darkness. He felt a hand rubbing his back and swallowed to clear his throat. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now you stay here. I'm goin' to get your horse."

Aramis nodded and began to massage his knee. Now that it was no longer bearing his weight it had settled down into an unrelenting ache. He was content to stay where he was at least for a while, trusting his brothers to have everything under control. He raised his head and looked around. The street was littered with groaning bodies but none looked to be fatally injured. More people had appeared and he saw Athos gesturing to two of them.

"Get these men out of my sight."

They had to bodily haul away the man who had attacked him as he was still comatose from the blow to his head. The others were all hurt but mobile and none of them seemed to want to continue the fight. Once the street had cleared Athos came over and hunkered down in front of him. He pulled out a clean handkerchief, folded it, and pressed it to the seeping wound on Aramis' shoulder.

"How bad?"

Aramis hissed at the pain and tried unsuccessfully to bat Athos' hand away. "It isn't deep. I doubt if it will need stitches."

"Your knee?"

A chill ran down Aramis' back. "Painful and weak." He touched it gently, feeling the swelling around the joint.

"It seems the Court is not kind to you."

"No. Yet I am glad I came." Much to his surprise that was the truth. He had faced his fears and that could only make him stronger.

"So am I." Porthos led Aramis' horse closer before handing it off to d'Artagnan. "Let's get you on your feet." He leaned down and put a strong arm around Aramis' waist. "Ready?"

Even though he felt apprehensive at the thought of moving he nodded. Using one hand he pushed off from the ground, grateful for Porthos' steadying presence. With most of his weight being taken by his friend he managed to get to his feet without too much trouble. He leaned heavily against Porthos before grabbing his saddle for support. Getting on his horse was painful and he swayed precariously as white spots danced in front of his eyes. Before he had time to think Porthos mounted behind him and reached around his body to grip the reins.

"You just concentrate on not fallin' off," Porthos said.

By the time they reached the garrison he was upright only through sheer will power. Porthos dismounted before helping him down to the ground. He looked at the stairs leading to his quarters and his stomach plummeted.

"You're goin' to the infirmary," Porthos said in a tone of voice that discouraged any argument.

Before Aramis could even think of a reply he found he was being steered in that direction. Truthfully he was relieved although he would never admit it.

"I'll fetch the doctor," d'Artagnan said.

Once Aramis was settled on a bed Porthos pulled over a chair. Aramis noticed that Athos hadn't accompanied them and he began to feel a trace of nerves.

"I'm sorry," Porthos said.

"For what?"

"For guiltin' you into coming with me to the Court. You're right. There are people there who don't deserve our help."

"There are also many who do. You didn't force me to accompany you. It was my choice."

"And now you're laid up again and with a shoulder wound as well."

"My shoulder will heal in a few days."

"Yeah." Porthos bent his head and began to fiddle with the edge of the blanket. "I don't like it when we're fightin'. It isn't natural."

"No, it's not."

"Can we start over?"

Despite his pain Aramis couldn't help the big grin that spread over his face. "I'd like that."

Porthos looked up. "From now on you stay away from the Court. It isn't good for your health."

"So it seems. Just be honest with me when you go there. And, be careful. It appears the Queen's generous offer has sparked much unrest."

"I wish the King would realise what he's putting them through. He's supposed to care about all his people."

"The Court of Miracles is beyond his comprehension, my friend."

"At least we can help some of them."

Aramis lay back, exhausted from his exertions. "Yes, we can and it feels good."

He was asleep when the doctor arrived and woke to Porthos gently shaking his shoulder. After removing his breeches he endured both the examination and a bad-tempered scolding which left him shaking and covered in a cold sweat. The doctor concluded by confining him to bed for three days with dire predictions of the further damage he would do if he ignored the advice. During it all Porthos stayed by his side. His shoulder wound was cleaned and wrapped and he was given a potion for the pain. When he settled down for the night it was with a much lighter heart. He knew it would take time for him and Porthos to return to the ease of their previous relationship and he couldn't totally rule out further friction between them. But they had both taken the first steps to repair the damage done and he was content with that.

TMTMTM

Aramis and Constance were waiting when the others emerged from the Court surrounded by children. Porthos was carrying an infant that looked to be less than a year old. Aramis smiled at how uneasy Athos looked. It appeared their leader was not at all comfortable with children. The boys and girls looked around them with wide eyes and Aramis realised they had probably never before left the confines of the Court. It had taken no more than three weeks to establish the orphanage. The Queen, when she turned her mind to something was very efficient. A pair of Red Guard stood watching and calling out jibes about how the Musketeers weren't fit to be anything other than nursemaids. D'Artagnan went for his sword only to be restrained by Athos. The young man subsided with an apologetic look at Constance.

"Let me take the little one," Aramis said, holding out his arms.

"You sure your knee'll be alright?" Porthos asked.

"It's fine." Aramis accepted the baby while Porthos took the hands of two of the younger children. "This is Constance," he told the children. "She's going to take you to your new home."

"Will there be food?" The boy who spoke was scrawny and malnourished.

"All you can eat," Constance assured him.

That brought smiles to the children's faces. Aramis cuddled the child in his arms, vividly recalling the one occasion when he had been able to hold his own son. He looked at Athos, seeing understanding there and a wry acceptance. While Constance and d'Artagnan chivied the children forward he stopped and looked back at the Court. He had suffered there and would always retain a distaste for it. His knee would be a constant reminder but so, in a different way, were the looks on the children's faces and the knowledge that they now had a chance at a better life.

"You comin'" Porthos called.

With a contented smile he turned and followed his brothers.

The End


End file.
